


Imprisoned in Invisible Chains

by Aboutnothingness (Thesherlockholmes)



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Early Queen (Band), F/M, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Song: Bohemian Rhapsody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:00:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24544267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thesherlockholmes/pseuds/Aboutnothingness
Summary: The melody is discontinued now, as he moves his arm to rest his elbow by the keys and his forehead in his hand. This is the real reason he never wants to be alone: he doesn't want to think about everything that's beneath his exuberant facade.
Relationships: Freddie Mercury/David Minns, Mary Austin/Freddie Mercury
Comments: 18
Kudos: 23
Collections: Freddie Mercury Weekend 2020!





	Imprisoned in Invisible Chains

**Author's Note:**

> Darlings, this is my first piece of writing for this fandom, and my first dip into RPF. As such, for my own moral comfort (isn't that ridiculous?), I'm just putting a disclaimer: this is fiction and is in no way a factual account of the actual people here portrayed. 
> 
> Alright, now that that's out of the way, I must thank my (first ever) beta BisexualRoger for all their help. Thank you, darling! (I owe you a case of Moët- when I'm rich and surrounded by Victorian clutter you'll get it). You sorted out all my strange turns of phrase and encouraged me and complimented me outrageously. I really wouldn't have had the nerve to put this up without you!
> 
> And to all you lovely readers, enjoy!
> 
> (for the Freddie Mercury Weekend 2020. Prompt: That Time Freddie Really Struggled with His Sexuality)

Mary has gone out for the evening and the flat is empty. The sun is just setting and the piano is calling. He doesn't often like to be alone, not when there's so much to see and hear and _do_ , but at the moment in the hazy orange evening hue, alone is exactly what he needs to be. Freddie settles at the piano, a cheap upright piece that's threatening to go out of tune at any given instant, and just _feels_. It's easier to do this alone. He can let his fingers wander to atonal chords, and let his voice waver and crack. Most importantly though, he can sing anything without worrying about what Mary or Roger or anyone else who happens to be around will think of his lyrics. And so, he lets his fingers fall onto a black-key octave and an arpeggio- the same melody that's been floating around him for upwards of two years. His left hand crosses over to hit two keys and then back down. It's calm and slow and this is all he plays when Mary's around. Not the rest of it. Not that there's much, not yet anyways, but there are two lines that he's not quite sure anyone but him will ever hear.

  
_Mama, just killed a man._  
_Put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger now he's dead._

  
He should be used to the words by now. He's thought them over and over trying to find what comes next, but it seems that no matter how many times he's whispered them under his breath, it never fails to leave his heart clenched and his eyes watery.

  
The melody is discontinued now, as he moves his arm to rest his elbow by the keys and his forehead in his hand. _This_ is the real reason he never wants to be alone: he doesn't want to think about everything that's beneath his exuberant facade.

  
He doesn't want to think about the fact that these lyrics aren't just a product of imagination. He doesn't want to acknowledge that it's true. That he killed it, that he _is_ killing it. He keeps trying, over and over, every morning when he rolls over and sees Mary's sweet, sweet face looking so young and peaceful in sleep. Every time she kisses his cheek as he brushes his hair in front of the bathroom mirror. Every time he kisses her, deep and long as the clock ticks past midnight beside the bed. And yet, when he awakens once again it's back, the feeling he will not give thought to, as if all his fighting and forgetting was useless. The whispers that say 'This isn't really what you want, is it?'

  
Freddie sighs, and runs a hand through his hair. _Enough of this_. There was another melody that had come to him earlier today in rehearsal with Brian and Roger that could possibly be molded into some shape in short order. It takes a while, stops and starts as he finds complimentary octaves and the right notes, but he finds a rough sketch of what could possibly be an interesting verse. He plays it over, humming a melody to top the piano.

  
_I have sinned  
Try and help me_

  
Intrigued by the potential lyrics that have come to mind, he jots them down along with the notes and octaves. _Perhaps this could be along the lines of..._

  
He plays the melody again, and then once more. Another three beats to fill.

_  
I have sinned dear Father  
Father I have sinned._

  
He notes the addition down as well. _No one would be the wiser, now would they?_

  
When Mary returns home at two in the morning and asks Freddie what he's still doing up, he jokes "Working on a song. It'll be great- I'll convert preachers to rock fans. Just you wait, my dear!" And then he laughs and Mary laughs at the absurdity of it and then all his earlier worries seem trivial as Mary grabs his hand and leads him to bed.

* * *

_  
There's no living in my life anymore,  
The seas have gone dry and the rain stopped falling._

  
Brian is smiling softly as Freddie plays the short piece for him. Rehearsal is over and the studio has been breathing down their necks for another record to increase their exposure. It seems like between the back to back shows- for heavens sake, they did a matinee last week at a pub- and rehearsals, there's never a spare second to sit down and write. So, Freddie had been digging up old, undeveloped scraps of songs from his days in Wreckage, and trying to make something of them. There was something of a medley being formed and Brian was working on forming an accompaniment on his Red Special for the two other, presumably heavier, harder songs. This one, however, was going to be different. This album was going to be about contrast after all, they had decided, and so there needed to be a least one soft song- and Freddie was not going to let Brian be the only one writing melancholy lyrics about heartbreak.

  
"It's lovely Fred. I don't think I'll do much really. Maybe just some compliments- you know, a few chords here when you go ‘why’d you have to leave me, why did you deceive me’ up to the end, to add a bit of depth there, something like that."

  
"Alright, clean and simple before that. Just the piano and the harmonies? I was thinking for ‘haven’t anything to grow, can’t you see’ sort of going up and overlapping with the next bit.”

  
"So it would go into my chords there?”

  
“Yes, sort of climax there, you know, and then soften with some outro harmonies.”

Brian nods, “I think it'll be nice."

  
"Good, we’ll sort it later. Now back to yours- White Queen. How did you want the second verse to go?"

  
After a few hours more work, after which Freddie's back aches and Brian's fingers look worse for wear, they settle down to a game of Scrabble. Mary's gone out and Brian, being the genius he is, has stayed over, sensing Freddie’s reluctance to be alone.

  
"Comet. 18 points with the double word score." Freddie writes it down and considers his tiles. It's silent until Brian speaks up again, a few minutes later.

  
"How's things with Mary? I hardly see her around."

  
"Oh, fine dear. She's been busy with work- I'm not quite the millionaire I promised her." Freddie laughs softly and lays out a word. "En, 50 points."

  
"Why do I even play you? That’s not a word!”

  
“It is, dear! Printers measure. And I got the triple word and it crosses with yours there.”

  
“Alright, alright.” Brian's shakes his head in amusement, but with a slight furrow to his brow, looks back up, "It's just... that song. I thought perhaps- I don't mean to pry, just the lyrics-"

  
"Oh darling, if you start analysing lyrics! No, don't overthink it. We're fine, wonderful." His voice sounded a bit higher than usual there, he knows, but he pats Brian's knee to distract the too kind (and too observant) man from noticing. "And what about you? Got a girl for yourself yet?" And just like that the conversation moves on to Brian lamenting a girl that has caught his eye, but to whom he hasn’t said anything to yet. The games of Scrabble last into the early hours and if Mary didn't return that night, well, Freddie wasn't going to think about it.

* * *

  
The band has been just jamming for about an hour, when Freddie stumbles upon a few chords that immediately alight an idea in his head and he stops the others in their fiddling. He plays the sequence over a few times, and Brian, seemingly catching on to the fact that Freddie's on to something, starts pairing a few guitar notes to his chords, and then Roger chimes in with a beat and John wanders over to watch his left hand and matches it with a low strum.

  
"Hey! What if..."

  
_'Wo wo la la la'_

  
Freddie sings along to what Brian is doing on the guitar and he just _knows_ this is something.

  
When he returns to the flat a couple of hours (and pints) later, Mary is at the kitchen table obviously waiting for him.

  
"I'm so sorry I'm late, my love. We got this brilliant idea- oh I just can't wait to work on it!" He swoops in to place a kiss on Mary's cheek, but when he notices her frown, pulls back and places his hand over hers, searching her face. "Dear, what is it? Is something wrong?"

  
"You were just working with the band?" she asks, her voice sounding a bit too soft.

  
"Well, yes. We got into a rhythm- well, you know how that can go. Why, what else could keep me from you?" He laughs and gives her his biggest smile. She shakes her head and looks up at him.

  
"I was just... never mind, Freddie. Just being silly. Well, what should we have for dinner then?" And then she's up and they're off to the kitchen, exchanging kisses and laughs and a few more glasses of wine over pasta.

  
The next morning, Freddie sees Mary off in the morning and then takes to work at the piano. The lyrics had been going round in his head the previous evening, along with chords, and the absolutely _marvellous_ idea of the audience joining in on the chorus.

  
_No beginning, there's no ending  
There's no meaning in my pretending  
Believe me, life goes on and on and on  
Forgive me when I ask you where do I belong  
You can do, you can do it  
You can go and set her free  
But that's not true_

* * *

  
It only takes six years for the song to finally be completed and for Freddie to find something resembling, if not peace, then understanding. He's quite sure that peace isn't in the cards, but love is, he's reassured, when he looks into David's eyes.

  
_Anyway the wind blows._

**Author's Note:**

> Do let me know what you think. I adore feedback! 
> 
> Ay-oh!
> 
> (Sorry, I really couldn't resist!)


End file.
